Too Much Democracy?

I’ve said so many times that I don’t intend this blog to be a political one that it’s very soon going to become a question of the lady protesting too much.  However, occurrences are a-happening out in the world, and occurrences which need thinking about carefully.  The main one on everybody’s minds at the moment (and for the next two soul-shattering, brain-numbing months) is the EU Referendum.

Now, we’ve heard lots of economists and experts and expats talking about exports and imports and immigrants and emigrants, and each side accuse the other side of scare-mongering and racism and fascism and treachery and treason, and almost every person has their own idea of whether leaving the EU will be a Good Thing or a Bad Thing, but as well as the economic and migrationary arguments, people bring up the question of sovereignty.  Shouldn’t the British be allowed to rule the British, we are asked?

And that has led me to ponder a question.  How much democracy is too much democracy?

After all, if you think about it, is does seem a little bizarre that people in France or Germany or Holland could vote on a thing, and it affect us here in the UK.  I mean, if our MEPs all vote one way, and everyone else votes the other, we’re stuck with a law that we don’t want, and surely that isn’t fair is it?

Except that if all the people in Yorkshire vote one way, and everyone else in the UK votes the other, Yorkshire is stuck with the consensus, and that could mean accepting laws approved of in Lancashire!  If Huddersfield votes one way, but the rest of Yorkshire votes another, is that fair on the inhabitants of Huddersfield?  What about Lynton Avenue?  What about Number 47?  (An address, incidentally, chosen completely at random.  I have no idea who lives there, nor are they affiliated with this blog, so please don't bother them, or ask their opinions on the nascent Huddersfield Independence Movement).

And so on, ad absurdum.  At what scale, at what level, is the right amount of democracy to be found?  Scotland recently agitated for independence, using most of the same arguments as those in favour of the UK leaving the EU, talking about sovereignty and democracy and not being ruled by those who don’t have their interests at heart.  There are those in Cornwall and Wales who’d like to see them as independent countries.  The national consensus is that this level of democracy and self-government is not a Good Thing.  Nations as entities need to be a certain size to get anything important done, and minorities having to put up with majority rule as part of a democracy is the price individuals pay for having those important things done on their behalf.

Where is that threshold though, roughly?  At what point do we say, “No, this entity is too big, this is far too much democracy thank you kindly.  The minority opinion is too big to be ignored, even if the majority opinion is correspondingly enormous.”  Presumably if nine people vote for option A, and 1 for option B, it is fair and just to expect Person 10 to go along with it.  However, if 900 million vote for A, and 100 million for B, it is not fair and just to expect that minority, numerically huge as it is, to accept the decision?

Obviously the EU is culturally diverse, and it can be argued that it is not fair that people from a culture very different to that of others should be able to make decisions that impinge on the lives of those culturally-different others.  They don’t understand how that minority does things, how they think, what they believe, and shouldn’t be allowed to push them around, no matter how democratically.

But is the culture in London sufficiently similar that their votes should affect rural Cheshire, for example?  Is the culture of Birmingham enough like that of Cornwall, Kent’s of Cumbria?  At what point does the cultural and sovereign cost of democracy become higher than the benefits reaped by joint action?

I’ve no idea, and I suspect that everybody has their own opinion, which is of course why we’re having this referendum.  However, certain people in Scotland have suggested that if Scotland votes ‘In’, and the rest of the UK votes ‘Out’, they should be allowed another referendum to see if they should be allowed to become independent and stay in the EU as a separate entity.  They will have suffered a surfeit of democracy.  The idea has been met with disdain by many, but surely that assertion of national sovereignty is exactly what so many people in the UK are in favour of?  Unless their democracy threshold is larger than Scotland but smaller than the EU, of course.

As I say, I have no answers, but I thought that the question is worth asking, because we hear a lot of rhetoric about democracy, as though it is some wonderful panacea that can turn the most wretched war-torn wasteland into a charming utopia overnight.  It is worth remembering that it is possible to have too much of a good thing.  It’s just up to each person to decide how much is too much, and vote accordingly.  Those in the minority will then have to accept that majority’s decision as the price of being a part of a greater whole.  It just remains to be seen how great that whole is afterwards.

The Two Ditch Diggers

You will recall, dear reader, that a few posts ago, I discussed having read some Dr Seuss, and being afflicted with a sudden fit of rhyming poetry, a sample of which I exposed you to.  At the time, I pointed out that the poem I posted wasn’t the first one I wrote during that particular fit, and that I would provide you with the first one in due course.  That course is now due.

I was considering posting this anyway, since I like to try and keep these posts at least semi-regular, and I haven’t had anything more relevant particularly worth posting recently.  However, I’ve also been drawn into a theological discussion on Facebook; a continuation of the antiquated Protestant grudge match of Calvinism vs Arminianism.  A friend of mine posted a quotation by the 18^th century (and wonderfully named) theologian Augustus Toplady, who was a staunch Calvinist, and therefore wrong.  (Methodists are Arminian, in case you were wondering).  I posted in response, and I have to say that we’ve been extremely courteous, despite our theological differences.

The thing is, although I love theology, and enjoy discussing it, I also believe that it is quite unimportant.  To quote the great George MacDonald, “Theologians have done more to hide the Gospel of Christ than any of its adversaries.”  After all, we surely all agree that God knows what He’s doing, and so as long as we obey His instructions to the best of our abilities, and put our faith in Him, all will be well?

Alas, sleeping dogs (and theologians) are not allowed to lie, and so the arguments rattle on in various corners of the internet, but here’s a (not very) little something for your consideration:

The Two Ditch Diggers

There once was a field in a low-lying land.

It was poorly positioned, improperly planned.

This field would swiftly and suddenly flood

Whenever it rained, and would melt into mud.

And when it was flooded, that poor barren field,

Not a bean, not a carrot or lettuce would yield.

So the farmer whose field was flooded so fast,

Said “This is quite awful, it simply can't last!

Before my poor farm is completed destroyed,

I’ll find some ditch diggers and get them employed,

On digging a ditch to make my field drier,

Now all that I need is some workmen to hire.”

He knew of two fellows who had what it takes,

A worker called John and his colleague, called Jake.

His promised rewards would have made them quite rich,

If before it next rained they could dig him a ditch.

So Jacob and John took poles and twine,

To make sure that they dug in a perfect straight line.

They planted the poles and tied up the string,

Then took up their spades, but here is the thing,

Though both were professionals, as good as can be,

On digging a ditch, they just could not agree.

"The best way to dig it, and make no mistake,

Is first go across, and then down," declared Jake.

"My friend, you are joking, but please don't go on.

We must first tunnel down, then across," stated John.

“Piffle and paffle!” Jake hotly replied,

“You go down just a bit then you go to the side!

And once you have got quite as far as you charted,

Down a bit more and then back where you started!”

Said John, “You go down, to the depth you decree,

Then dig it all sideways, it’s obvious, you see!”

"Down then across?" Jacob said with a snort.

"How can you have had such a ludicrous thought?!

I am laughing so hard that I'm getting a stitch!

What a weird, wacky way to try digging a ditch!"

"If you insist on initially digging across,

Then that is your problem, your burden and loss,"

Said John with a fierce and furious frown,

"But for this field we will first go straight down!"

"Across and then down, and make no mistake,

That's how we will dig!" said the workman named Jake.

"Down then across!" John was angry indeed,

"It's the only way forward and how we'll proceed."

“Across and then down!”

“Down then to the side!”

“Your brain has dissolved!”

“Yours has shrivelled and died!”

It might have been Jacob, or John, who first struck,

But then they were at it and both run amuck,

Punching and pinching and bashing and butting,

And biting and fighting and knocking and nutting!

John gave a bellow and Jake gave a cry,

and both failed to notice the clouds in the sky.

The wind started whooshing through whipple and willow

and piled up the clouds in a billowing pillow.

"Down!" shouted John, "Down, and that is all!"

"Across!" bellowed Jake as rain started to fall.

Dropping and dripping in drizzling drops,

It pelted and pummelled in ponderous plops.

The two battled on as the field started flooding,

Kicking and flicking and thumping and thudding.

They skirmished and scrummed not the least bit dishearted,

By the big job that they'd not even started.

The other was wrong and they knew they were right,

And they bawled and they bellowed and brawled through the night

As the rain it rained down and on flooded the flood,

The seeds washed away and the soil became mud.

The water sloshed upwards with splishing and splashes,

Up past their navels and nostrils and lashes.

Their yelling and tromping and tramping and troubles

Dissolved in a series of babbling bubbles.

Their shouting and stamping and vindictive violence,

Was all of a sudden replaced with a silence.

At last came the day with the dawning of morning,

And thus came the farmer without the least warning,

To see all the work of his ditch-digging team,

But when he arrived they were not to be seen.

Where there’d been a field he’d now got a lake,

And there was no sign of a John or a Jake.

He looked all around with the greatest dismay,

For his workers were gone and his crops washed away.

Shoulders all slumping, back homeward he slunk,

For his hopes were all dashed and his livelihood sunk.

The moral, if really it needs much explaining,

Is ditches need digging before it starts raining,

And methods don’t matter, beliefs are all one,

As long as the task you are given gets done.

You say my beliefs and my theories need righting,

But let’s get the job done before we start fighting.

Later there’s plenty of time for debate,

But let’s dig the ditches before it’s too late.

Bickering’s daft; so on with our calling,

For you never know when the rain will start falling.

Copyright Thomas Jones 2016